


Under the Sheets

by HelmetParty



Series: TURN: Bingo [2]
Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Turn (TV 2014)
Genre: 18th Century, Canon Era, Comfort, Dry Humping, Fear Play, Ghosts, Haunted Houses, Historical Inaccuracy, Horror, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Monsters, Supernatural Elements, Unbeta'd, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Wet Dream, [[ @ me on that ]], [[ i like hamilton but this is based on TURN ]], [[ only tagging as hamilton for views kek ]], [[ their actors anyway ]], believer lafayette, skeptical alexander hamilton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 16:47:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15319872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HelmetParty/pseuds/HelmetParty
Summary: There are rumors of an abandoned farmhouse not far from where they were stationed, and they have free time. Everything goes wrong.Let's be real: its probably Hamilton's fault.





	Under the Sheets

**Author's Note:**

> Tobeymaguire on Tumblr! Reposting to other sites with credit, translations, and promo are appreciated!

 It's just some dumb story passed around by a few of the soldiers. Nobody really thought it any mind, until John heard about it.

 "I dare you to spend the night there. It's just up the road."

 Alexander was indeed a fool at times, but even he wouldn't be pushed into this. "Absolutely not," he says, a lack of worry in his words. "Besides, ghosts aren't even real."

 "Then why not stay the night there?" John inquires, a playful tone in his voice. He shoulders Hamilton, who sits in their temporary tent, writing. "I bet you won't. None of the soldiers will, either. Just admit your scared."

 Alexander was, also, not one to be played gutless.

 It was so close that he didn't even need a horse, however, Alexander decides to take his. He would much prefer it over walking anyway, and besides, he wanted to take a blanket. John is smiling like an idiot, unbelieving that Hamilton was really going to spend an _entire night_ in a seemingly haunted house just because he didn't want to be known a coward. "You can't miss it, right through the trees west," John says, pointing in the direction of the home. "Only two and a half miles or so. Big house, too, it was owned by some rich guy who wouldn't let his daughter marry. The story goes he kept her locked up in the second-floor room, all the way to the left. Apparently, it was just those two, not even any maids."

 Alex feels like an idiot for indulging this. "Where could you have possibly heard that from?" Alex says, unbelievingly. "Who told this tale if there were only two people who lived there, and died?"

 John thinks for a moment, legitimately, wondering the truth of the story. Still, he grins, and playfully punches his shoulder. "Maybe the ghost told it."

 They hug and Alex gets on his horse. It would take only a tiny bit of time to ride to the house, and at the moment there was very little to do. Even so, Alex took some of his papers with him, including a few candles, hoping that this would be his chance to get away from the crowded and often much too loud camp to have some piece of mind. He exchanges a few more words with John before he starts to head in the direction of the home.

 Before he can leave, he is stopped. "Alexander," a voice calls from behind him, a familiar French accent. Hamilton turns his horse and sees Lafayette riding atop his white mare, galloping through the camp. John waves and Hamilton smiles softly at his friend.

 "Where are you going?" Lafayette asks, his horse slowing down. "I just got here, are you switching tents?"

 "No, Alex is going to the abandoned house over there," John points again, and Lafayette's brow raises. "Abandoned house?"

 "I dared him. He doesn't believe in ghosts."

 Lafayette turns from looking at John to giving a serious and stern glare at Alexander. "You do not believe in _ghosts_?", he asks, almost like it was something ridiculous to not believe in. "My friend, that is foolish. Is this house...occupied by the dead?" He is quiet with his words like it was a serious matter.

 "No," Hamilton laughs, "Every house has had people die in it. There's no such thing as ghosts."

 Lafayette sighs. "Then I suppose I must go with you, I want to see your face when you're proven wrong." His words, this time, are playful in nature, and Alexander grins. "I'd like to see yours when nothing happens at all."

* * *

 Fifteen minutes, give or take, is all it takes for their horses to stride through the woods. The woods themselves are thick and illusory, the trees thin but frequent, giving a certain claustrophobic feel. Because of the density of trees and the lack of a path, they go one and then another, Hamilton taking the lead through the forest. The bird's caw in the treetops, though few and very quiet. Other than them, and the occasional flowing of wind and trees rustling, there is nearly no sound. Even the horses seem eerily silent.

 "I don't like this," Lafayette says sometime in the journey. "It feels eerie." 

 Alexander cackles at this, sitting high on his horse, feeling unafraid and sure. "Watch out, there could be a ghost in these woods."

 There is a field of grass and a hill outside of the woods, a relatively large square of land available to the house. The house itself is wood, though old, and because of this Hamilton is unsure of the type of such. They quietly approach the large house, which looked menacing, impending. Even Alexander was somewhat shaken by how terrifying it looks. The house suddenly makes everything around it look similarly eerie, the woods seem as though they themselves are corrupt. Lafayette feels vulnerable in the open grassland, as though whatever lurks in the woods was watching intently. "Alexander," he says quietly like if he spoke too loud that would be the end of them. He says nothing else, but Hamilton understands.

 "It's just your paranoia. It's just a house."

 Lafayette tries to find comfort in his words, though, he is unable.

 Hamilton kicks for his horse to continue, though unnerved, determined to prove everyone wrong. 

 They tie their horses to a frail fencepost outside of the house. Alexander's bag is hanging from his shoulder, and he begins to head inside. He notices that Lafayette is almost frantically looking around, hovering around his horse, seemingly paranoid and actually afraid.

 "Christ, Laf, you _really_ think something's out there?" He stops at the door, waiting for his friend. Lafayette takes his bag and almost jogs to Hamilton.

 "I think I saw something."

 "I'm sure you did, its the woods. Or maybe its one of the guys trying to freak us out."

 Lafayette says nothing, but he rolls his eyes.

 Hamilton cautiously enters the house. Not cautious for ghosts, or other miscellaneous supernatural creatures, but for rubble and structure sustainability. He was surprised to find that the house, albeit dusty and somewhat bent out of shape, was almost entirely normal. There were pieces of furniture, glassware, expensive looking mats and chandeliers. It looked indeed like a rich person's house, and Alexander was in awe of its kept beauty rather than its subtle horror.

 He enters, setting his bag down to the right. His eyes are focused on his surroundings in astonishment, he had never seen such a fancy place dolled up but not in use. And it was clear it had not been used in a long time, too, the dust spoke that much. There were a few broken pieces of glass on the floor, from what he assumed had been left from unmannered people who had also entered the abandoned farm and is disgusted at how someone could leave that in an otherwise perfect place.

 Alexander turns to look at Lafayette, who stands near the door, looking out the window. He peeks spylike from the curtain and into the woods, almost like he was on watch.

 "Would you quit it?" he says, rather annoyed now. "For someone who's so eager to run to the face of death, I didn't assume you a _wimp_."

 Lafayette's face quickly turns to Hamilton's, his face contorted into a frown. "And I didn't assume you a fool, coming here."

 "You came with me, does that make you a fool as well?"

 The tension turns from harsh to playful as Lafayette steps away from the door and chuckles. "Perhaps."

 Alexander looks around, quicker this time. "I'll find a room for myself, then." He notices the staircase, which is hidden in the back of the living room. He steps up the stairs, which creak and groan loudly as he ascends. The tight corridor leads to a beautiful and open hallway to the left, which has three doors on each side and one at the end, all closed. Hamilton takes it upon himself to at least look in each room, to find the one best suited for his needs.

 The first two rooms on the left are nothing more than spare bedrooms, nothing special about them and nothing to indicate that anyone had made this their primary bedroom. The third door on the left is a bathroom, which Alexander keeps in mind for later. The door at the end of the hallway is locked, to which he makes a mental note to get in later, somehow. The last door on the right is an office of some sort, and he looks through the papers that were scattered on the desk and realizes much of it is in another language that he cannot make out. Some of it, though, seems to be poetry, others of it seem to be British maps, which had strange markings on them. The middle right door was a bedroom, this time, someone clearly lived here. There was a musket on the wall next to a deer head, and many bones related decor scattered about the dresser and other tables. The bed was cozy, it had what looked like fur some kind on top of it, and pillows which seemed unbelievably comfortable. There is a desk here, too, which was very much tidy and neat, this time all the papers were in another language. The first and final door on the right is seemingly a storeroom, boxes and other miscellaneous objects scattered about, yet full to the brim.

 Satisfied with his discovery, he enters the bedroom with the musket. He enjoyed the overall farm-like aesthetic this room had other than the plain boring nothingness of the spare bedrooms to the right. He realizes his blanket was much unneeded, as he was expecting the traditional viewings of an abandoned house rather than a fully furnished and intact mansion as he had ended up in. Essentially, John had set him up with an actual nice bed and an empty house all to himself.

 And Lafayette.

 He realizes that it has likely been fifteen or so minutes and yet he hasn't heard Lafayette, and that he had forgotten his bag downstairs. He leaves the bedroom, though allowing the door to stay open behind him as he intended to return.

 Alexander descends the loud and elderly stairs and rounds the corner. His bag is still in the place he had dropped it, but Lafayette was not in sight. "Lafayette?" he says, taking his bag and putting it back in its rightful place, his shoulder. He enters the kitchen to the left of the front door and notices an exit to another room behind it. He cautiously proceeds forward into the room.

 It's another living room, it seemed like, this time it was a single room unconnected to everything else with only one exit, the one he was entering from. There is a brick fireplace, which was lighting up dimly. Lafayette was sitting on his knees, a blanket spread out beside him poking at the fire with a rusty looking poker.

 "Nice," Hamilton says, a smile on his face. "We don't freeze to death tonight."

 Lafayette chuckles. "Ghosts are said to make things very cold. Perhaps there is still a chance."

 Hamilton rolls his eyes. "There's a few rooms upstairs, bedrooms. Nice mattresses it looks like. Seems like we hit the jackpot."

 Lafayette turns from his poking. "I'll stay down here."

 "What?" He's shocked, really. Rarely in war do you get the chance to lay on a _real_  bed. "And miss out on a mattress?"

 "Well, this is closer to the exit. And to a nice fire."

 Alexander just can't understand why Lafayette is so hell-bound on this ghost business. "Listen," he says, his voice quietly annoyed. He pinches the bridge of his nose. "There's nothing here. If there was a ghost, wouldn't that mean there's a ghost everywhere? Someone has died _everywhere_."

 Lafayette shrugs. "I am not a ghost expert, Alexander. Are you?"

 No. "Yes," he says. "I'm an expert in common sense. It's the same thing." 

 Lafayette shrugs again. "Well, just know I'm staying in here. So if you hear something tonight, it's not me."

 Alexander sighs, and begins the walk back to his new room. He opens the blinds and sees the sun beginning to fade, the sky orange and pink as the stars begin to shine. He cracks open his bag and empties his papers onto the desk, along with a few candles and other odds and ends. He sets his pistol under the pillow of the bed. He didn't assume he would need to use it, but he would rather be caught with no pants then no weapon.

 The night drags on and Alex begins his work. His pocket watch ticks away, welcome ambient noise along with crickets and other nightly creatures singing away outside. He writes and writes, studying his own words and making sure everything was adequate. As Washington's aide-de-camp, everything was required to be orderly and respectable. He's unsure of just how much time gets away from him, but it only feels like a few minutes until he checks his watch again. It was, to his surprise as always, very late. The clock hummed quietly, the time showing that it was, in fact, one in the morning. While this was certainly not an unusual time for him to be awake, he was rather looking forward to sleeping in his bed.

 So, he decides once in his life, to put his work down at the moment. He sighs happily, takes a tiny swig of the wine he had tucked away in a bottle in his bag, puts out the candles, and contently wraps himself in the fur of the bed. The pillow was just as fluffy and comfortable as he thought and, even though the mattress was rather a bit stiff, he was snug and warm, which is all he could have asked for. He listens to the crickets outside as he falls asleep.

 And it doesn't feel like long before he's woken up. 

 There is a distinct sound, one not too loud but loud enough to be abruptly woken from sleep for. It sounded like a thud, somewhere, he didn't know of which direction it came from. Alexander's eyes open quickly as he hears it, and he looks around his room without moving his head to see-

 _..._ Absolutely _nothing._

 He was almost scared for a second, and for what.

 Alexander feels like a fool for awakening to a simple thud. It was probably just Lafayette, anyway.

 Too tired, his mind quickly heads back to sleep.

* * *

_Thud. Clunk. Crash._

Three noises, all in repetition, very quickly.

 Alexander bolts awake, this time sitting up in a cold sweat. He instantly looks around his room, his tired mind almost incapable of understanding what was going on. It takes him a few moments of rubbing his eyes to remember where he was. That part came back, and almost instantly he remembers John's story of the place. His tired mind, he figures, as a shiver runs up his spine thinking about the story now. It was dark is all, he assumes, that that's why he's only now afraid. He sits up against the bedpost and simply exists for a moment, feeling his surroundings and looking around. He notices only now that he was, as this sometimes happened in his sleep, horny. That would explain the cold sweat, he thinks, feeling much better now.

 Then his mind snaps back to the sounds.

 Fear rises in him again, but Hamilton, now more awake, begins to think of logical reasons for this. It sounded, to his memory, close, so he starts there; even in the dark he can see a bit, and notices that two of the bone displays have fallen from the side table and onto the ground and shattered. Likely in his sleep he had reached over and knocked them down by accident.

 Easy solution. Probable solution.

 Alexander rests in his bed again, this time on his side. He feels like an idiot for panicking, thinking of ghost stories. If there was truly a ghost, why would it wait until now to do something? The supernatural didn't exist, and it was foolish to believe in such. He had never encountered a ghost or otherwise occult being, and he's been in some disturbing places.

 While he's thinking, his still tired eyes open, he hears another sound; the creaking of quick footsteps coming from the stairs.

 This time, Alexander isn't so quick to find a solution. His door is closed, but he stares directly at it, waiting as if he was watching for someone to burst in. His mind doesn't go to supernatural, instead, his mind heads for an intruder; someone looking to ransack, someone looking to kill them. Maybe one of the guys had followed and waited until the cover of night to sneak in and kill them? It wasn't out of the realm of possibility, and quickly (and a little louder than he would have liked) reaches for his pistol which still rested under the second pillow to the right.

 He grabs it and points it at the door in waiting.

 Suddenly, the door creaks open. It opens slowly, a familiar but now sinister creak coming from it. 

 "Alexander?" 

 Lafayette.

 "Lafayette!", Alex says, in a whisper yell. "What the hell are you doing?"

 "I'm afraid guns won't help us now," he says, closing the door quickly behind him. Lafayette runs quietly to the left side of the bed and sits on the ground panting.

 "What the hell is wrong?"

 "Well, haunted might be a secondary issue," he says, a quiver in his voice. "There's something outside, and it is not human."

 There is a pause of silence, and then Alexander laughs.

 "Shhh!" Lafayette says, turning to his friend, who still laughs rather loudly. He sets his gun back under the pillow, feeling most unafraid.

 "God, Lafayette, you really are a moron."

 Lafayette hisses his words, "I've seen men, and I've seen every matter of creature. But whatever that was wasn't either. It was something different altogether, and you would be an idiot to call me a liar."

 He's still laughing, but there is a creak downstairs. "Shh!" Lafayette says, this time with more urgency. This time Hamilton quiets, still a grin smothered on his face. They are both quiet for a moment, listening. They sit in silence, able to hear a pin drop should it happen. There is another creak, then another.

 "I'm up here, so what was that?"

 "All I hear is an old abandoned house settling, Lafayette. There's nothing to be afraid of. Are you sure you didn't see a bear?"

 "It's pale. It looks kind of like a tree, like a cross of human, bird, and dog."

 Hamilton really can't keep entertaining this.

 "Listen. I'll come with you downstairs, but I'm really tired, and I want to sleep, so-"

 "I'm not going back down there. We're better off if we stay together and wait until the sunrise."

 Alexander sighs and looks at Lafayette, whose face is contorted into one of urgency; like any of this was real.

 "Fine," he says, raising the set of blankets on the bed, gesturing for the other man to join him. Lafayette hesitates, but he climbs under the blankets and Alexander covers them over him. "There," he says, still a smile on his face. "Now we can sleep, okay?"

 Lafayette nods, but his eyes don't close. Tired and not interested in any more of this tomfoolery, Alex rolls over to lay on his back, and he closes his eyes. Its rather easy to fall asleep in this state, and it feels nicer with Lafayette with him. 

 He falls asleep easily and feels that this would likely be the last time he was woken for the night.

* * *

 An urgent rustling wakes him. He feels two hands on him, shaking him strongly yet quietly. "Alexander!" the voice says with panic, " _Alexander_!"

 " _What_!"

 Lafayette puts a hand over his mouth, and as Alexander's eyes adjust to the dark again, he sees the horror in Lafayette's face.

 Lafayette wasn't a liar, and he surely wasn't a scaredy cat, even though Alex joked.

 He pushes his hand off his mouth and looks around. "What is going on?" he whispers. "What?"

 Lafayette doesn't move, but he looks to the door. Alexander looks, too, and notices something that legitimately sends fear down his spine.

_The door was open._

 Alexander knew for a fact that it was closed when the got into the bed. His stomach drops, thinking of who could be out there; was someone really trying to kill them?

 "Okay, uh," he starts, his mind still foggy with sleep. "We get up and go to the window, we'll have the vantage point if they try to get in."

 Lafayette doesn't argue, he nods slightly, his eyes wide open.

 "On three," Alexander says, his body stiff and eager to end this once and for all. "One, two..." On three, they each jump from the bed, Alexander grabbing his pistol from under the pillow instantly. Their backs face the window, and from this angle, its impossible to see out of the door as it only was open a ways. Alexander holds his gun in both his hands, perfectly aimed at the door. He was exhausted at this point, wishing that he had just taken the playful ridicule aimed at him instead of trying to prove his bravery, as usual.

 "A-Alexander," Lafayette's voice quivers, and he looks at his friend instantly. "What?"

 He says nothing, but his face is glued outside, his eyes open wide. Alex turns and looks, too, and he himself is caught off guard.

 What he said was true. It wasn't human, it couldn't be; they were on a second story floor, yet the creature looked like it could almost reach it; its arms we're outstretched against the house, reaching for the window. Its face was large, but its eyes took up almost the entirety. Its pupils were dilated and small, its mouth unable to be seen; two slits are seen in-between of its protruding eyes, the flesh around its slits moving to and fro, as though it was breathing. It looked grotesque, thin, and pale; almost as if it emitted light. Its dreary and unlively pale-grey skin was clear to see, even in the night. It feels like hours until the thing jumps from the house, and runs out of sight to the left, absolutely silently, as if it really didn't exist.

 Lafayette is breathing heavily, but Alexander is the one who starts to panic. "Jesus fucking Christ," he says, his eyes, too, wide. Hamilton holds his gun to his chest and slides down the wall to sit. The bed now covers most of his sight, the door still open.

 Lafayette joins him on the ground, sitting close to Alexander. 

 They sit in absolute silence for a few minutes. Lafayette can feel Alexander's chest rising and falling quickly, but he himself is too afraid to panic as such. He takes Alexander's arm in his own, almost like he was holding on for life itself. Lafayette was not a man to fear much, but at this moment, he wasn't sure they were going to live.

 As they sit on the floor, they hear a sudden loud bang. The door had closed, by itself. Alex's breath hitches and Lafayette jumps. 

 "Do you believe me now?"

 Alexander says nothing.

 The noises pick up now; crashes downstairs, movement in the hallway, but nothing to imply that the creature had gotten inside. Was this something different?

 Maybe this house _was_ haunted.

 They're holding on to each other at some point, though, he keeps a hand on his pistol. Lafayette won't take his eyes off the door, and Hamilton keeps glancing back to the window. He wondered what would have happened if the creature had gotten in if they didn't get up from the bed. Would it have killed them? Would it have waited to kill them until they noticed it? There was something sinister about it, that was sure.

 He feels like a fool, but he notices a familiar twitch in his pants. What a shitty time to be horny, he thinks, in the midst of a crisis like this. He silently curses himself, wishing that this would all just end soon. It's sudden, along with the realization of his issue, that he notices Lafayette, too. He can feel his breath almost, and he sees the fear in his face and how he's holding onto him like he depended on it. Alexander's right arm is occupied by Lafayette's right as well, his left arm contorted to grab his inner thigh, dangerously close to something else. Even in this situation, he's unable to stop the thoughts that roam into his mind; this would surely not be the first time he's thought about his friend as so, but he cursed himself for thinking of it at this time.

 There's a sudden and very loud crash, which sounded like it was in the other room. Lafayette jumps again, this time, his hand accidentally grazing past Alexander's groin. Alex's breath hitches, but Lafayette doesn't seem to notice, so he says nothing. 

 "We cant stay like this," he says. "We need to get out of here. The camp is not even a five-minute run if we have the horses."

 "Whats to say it didn't eat them?" Alexander brings up. "We can't risk that. We should wait until morning, or make a break for it when the coast is clear."

 Lafayette turns from looking at the door to instead look at Alexander. 

 "We're going to die, aren't we?"

 Hamilton had never seen Lafayette so afraid of something. Even marching into battle, even when he was shot, even when he was sick, he was never afraid. Lafayette, despite his age, was one of the bravest people Alexander had ever known. He was his best friend, aside from John, and he felt like he knew him pretty well. But this is something he had never even imagined.

 "No!" Alexander says, louder than he should have. Lafayette puts his hand back onto his mouth, quickly glancing at the door, and then back to Alexander. He had gotten closer, their faces so close that they could feel the heat of each others' breath. "We have to be quiet," he reinstates. "If we have a chance."

 It's inappropriate to think of at all, but mostly at the moment; he wanted to just lean forward and close the short gap between each other. Lafayette looked so soft, his lips delicate. His eyes are watery blue, and Hamilton feels undressed being looked at by them.

 They look at each other in silence for a few seconds, but it feels longer to Alex. He is looking from both his eyes to his lips, unsure of where would be more acceptable to look at.

 Lafayette catches on, it seems, as he looks down and sees Alexander's pants. He looks back up at him with something else in his eyes, but its interrupted by another bang. He jumps once again, this time, further into Hamilton's embrace. His hand rests just beside his member, to which Lafayette takes notice, and moves to palm it. Alexander wasn't expecting such, as he lets out an almost involuntary moan. There is no dialog between them as Alexander leans in to place a kiss on Lafayette's mouth, to which Lafayette moves into as happily as he could given the circumstances. Alexander's left hand is wrapped under his arm to gently pet and palm at his back, while his other lets go of the pistol to touch Lafayette's chest and groin. They move against each other, Hamilton gently thrusting upwards into Laf's touch as they embrace each other, now rather heated in their makeout session. It's Alexander who breaks their kiss, readjusting their position so that Lafayette sits in his lap perfectly, their groins rubbing against each other through their clothes. Lafayette puts his hands on Hamilton's jaw, holding it tightly as they kiss once more, Alexander's hands holding Lafayette's ass, groping, grazing. 

 Engrossed in their doings, they both look at the door to their room opens. Its quick, fast, and more importantly, loud. Alexander scrambles to find his gun, however, it's not where he had just set it down moments prior.

 "Where is my pistol!" he asks, pushing Lafayette off of him. He scours the ground, looks under the bed, but it's simply _not there_. 

 "What do you mean! I thought it was right there," Lafayette points, but nothing is there. "That's where I set it, I, I don't know where-"

 In their talking, a voice is heard; they look at each other as if they were asking if the other had heard it, too.

 Alexander is done wasting time. He grabs his bag from under the desk and quickly packs his papers into it. He leaves his ink and candles, figuring that it was simply not worth it. He grabs the musket that was on the wall, and all this time, Lafayette follows closely. 

 "We're going to grab your bag, and then run to the horses. We have one shot, let's make it count."

 Lafayette nods.

 They enter the hallway quietly, slowly. Alexander notices all of the doors were open, not including the locked one at the end. That one, still, remains closed, and silently he blesses it was. He would rather not get to know why it was locked in the first place, especially not now.

 As they descend the stairs, it is eerily quiet. Just a few moments ago, it was like the house couldn't be quiet, but now, there is nothing. As Alexander takes the first step down the stairs, it creaks, and he cursed God for it. He goes slowly, one after another, and it feels like days until they finally reach the end. He can see that the front door was open, items strewn about in something of a haste. The house they had entered was seemingly not there, it wasn't the calm, nice, rich home that they had seen before. It was a house of hell, given the context.

 Lafayette takes the lead now, walking quietly towards the kitchen. Alexander waits by the door, which was close enough that he could still see Lafayette enter his previous room.

 He stops.

 "Alexander," he says, in a voice that he had never heard in his life.

 " _Run_."

 Alexander's eyes widen as Lafayette comes running from the room without his bag, the skinny pale creature following close behind. At that moment, he's never known true fear.

 Lafayette runs out the front door, and just in the nick of time, Alexander closes it. Without hesitation, he runs, looking back to see the creature howling, banging at the door, a haunting memory that would surely never leave him.

 The horses were now a pile of mush and bone, only the heads remaining seemingly untouched and unharmed, despite being cut from the body. Lafayette and Hamilton continue running in the direction that they had come from, constantly looking back to see if the creature was following them. Its howling echoes, but its a distance behind them, which is somewhat comforting given the situation. There is a certain comfort that given when they reach the cover of the woods, feeling more hidden and away from whatever it was that was clearly after them.

 They only stop running when Alexander just can't, but even then, they push through.

 The real comfort comes when the bustle and fire of camp are heard, the lights of such which are seen through the trees. The sun seems to be about to rise, as well, implying it was likely nearly six in the morning. They walk slower now, each sure that whatever it wasn't chasing them through the woods. 

 There are men still awake who make comments as they walk by, but neither care.

 They get to their tent and John is asleep, to which they both sigh in relief at. There's Alexander's bed, which he had propped up next to John's so they could sleep next to each other, but he wasn't in the mood to complain. They take off their shoes, not saying a word, and he gestures for Lafayette to get in first. He obliges, and seems like he falls asleep almost instantly. Alex goes in next, not really minding that it was tight with all three of them in the same makeshift double bed at the same time.

 Alexander would have to think of something to tell John in the morning.

 And he hopes, no, _prays_ , that Lafayette doesn't remember what happened between them.

 It was all too complicated. The entire endeavor was something that Alexander would rather forget.

 But even in his sleep, he sees that _thing_. 

 But during the day, he sees Lafayette.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and criticism appreciated, no matter the nature of such.


End file.
